More Gender Noncomformity

My youth is a long way away, and I don't remember it entirely clearly. But I remember that I never wanted to be a housewife, a mother or anything that was allowed to women in those days: a secretary, a teacher or a nurse. I wanted to be a writer, a space cadet and someone who changed the world for the better. I didn't give into social pressure, because my mother and her sisters were backing me, and because I was so clueless -- so much in my own world -- that I didn't register social pressure. Yes, other kids were sometimes mean to me, but I didn't know why or what I could do about it. So I did nothing and kept being myself. I think I was probably an odd duck, but I managed to protect myself from the 1950s. I became a writer, but not a space cadet, though I write about space faring. I wanted to change the world in radical ways: to make it just and peaceful and kind. I didn't manage that. But I have written about societies that are juster and more peaceful and kinder than ours.

Gender Nonconformity

From the Wikipedia on gender nonconformity: "For women, adult gender non-conformity is often associated with lesbianism due to the limited identities women are faced with at adulthood. Notions of heterosexual womanhood often require a rejection of physically demanding activities, social submission to a male figure (husband or boyfriend), an interest in reproduction and homemaking, and an interest in making oneself look more attractive for men with appropriate clothing, make-up, hair styles and body shape. A rejection of any of these factors may lead to a woman being called a lesbian regardless of her actual sexual orientation..."

What is this crap? Never in my life have I met any of these criteria for a normal het woman. I thought these criteria went out in the 1960s.
Make yourself look attractive for men? I dress for myself and other women. Men don't notice. Well. some gay men do.

Social submission? Are you nuts? Homemaking? If you mean decor, yes, I do that. I learned it from my father. If you mean house cleaning, I do it, but I'm not interested. I'm kind of lazy, so I do avoid physically demanding activities, except weight lifting, kettle bells and TRX.

I know women who run races, who work demanding jobs, who do kettle bells and TRX. (Men have tried our TRX class, but they quit, because it's too hard.) Who dress to please themselves and possibly other women. Who may or may not be interested in reproduction. I would call all of these women normal. I figure the description of 'normal women' in the Wikipedia entry appies to members of weird Xian sects and to the sad young women who hang out in sports bars with their boy friends.

Fall 2

I saw the orthopedic doc. A nice guy.

My broken bone is a crack. It should heal itself. I should not wear the sling for more than 7-10 days. I can use the left hand and arm now. The sling is just for comfort and to alert other people, so they won't bump into me. Once the sling is off, I need to start stretching the injured arm to bring back full range of motion. I should stay away from heavy lifting for six weeks.

Fall

I had a nasty fall last week, which resulted in a broken bone in my left arm and a massive black eye, now beginning to turn other colors. We went to an urgent care unit and then to a local hospital, since the urgent care unit thought I needed a CT scan, since I had hit my head. (I also wrecked a lovely and expensive pair of glasses.) Anyway, I got scanned and xrayed and am now in a sling. I have an appointment with an orthopedic doctor this afternoon.

This happened when I was looking forward to attending to a wedding and going to the Wisconsin Science Fiction Convention. Also, I have writing to finish and an apartment to clean, and Patrick and I are due to move into a new apartment in our building this summer. Summer is pretty close.

My mood swings up and down. I was cheery in the ER. Today I feel okay. Yesterday, I decided I was old and fragile and heaven knew what complications there might be.

I never broken a bone before. I am really angry about it. I tripped on an uneven place in the sidewalk. What kind of klutz does that? I blame it on Trump. I was probably brooding over his behavior instead of watching where I was going.